The Counterfeit Mystery

by Norvin Pallas

  Meanwhile the lunch had been spread out on a cloth on the wooden table, and the picnickers began to load up their paper plates and find a place to sit, either on the floor or on one of the two wooden benches grouped in a half circle around the flickering fire. Their shadows danced upon the opposite wall.

  “Anybody know any ghost stories?” asked Jim.

  The girls protested, but it was a girl who volunteered to tell the first story.

  “This story happened to a lady,” Helen began.

  “Is it true?” Nelson demanded.

  “Of course it’s true,” Jim broke in. “All ghost stories are true—or they’re supposed to be while you’re telling them. Go on, Helen.”

  “Well, this is about a lady who married a certain man. The man had been married before, but his wife had died. Anyway, his second wife came to live with him in the same house, and they had most of the same furniture they had had before. Even the chinaware was the same.

  “However, this woman had received some wedding gifts of her own, and among them was a beautiful and very expensive silver cream pitcher and sugar bowl. The woman was anxious to use her own things as much as she could, but her husband wanted to leave everything the way it was. Whenever she suggested changing anything, he would say, ‘Why change it? It’s always been that way.’ The woman found this rather annoying.

  “Anyway, she decided there was at least one thing she could change. She would start using her own silver cream pitcher and sugar bowl, instead of the ones that went with the regular dishes. She didn’t bother asking her husband about it, and as a matter of fact she didn’t think he would even notice.

  “Well, this family set the breakfast table before going to bed, the way some families do so there will be less confusion in the morning. So one night the wife filled her own bowl with sugar and put it out on the table. Then they went to bed. But when she got up in the morning, she found the silver bowl was back in the cupboard and the china bowl was sitting in the middle of the table.

  “Of course she thought that her husband had changed it. However, he didn’t mention it, and she didn’t say anything about it either before he went off to work.

  “It was quite a few weeks before she could bring herself to use the silver sugar bowl again, but all that time she had been brooding about it. She didn’t see why she shouldn’t be able to use some of her own dishes, and she still didn’t think her husband would notice, for usually he was too busy reading the latest stock quotations at the breakfast table. So she thought she’d try it again. But when she got up in the morning the old china sugar bowl was on the table again. This time it puzzled her, because she had been watching her husband more closely, and she couldn’t see when he had had a chance to switch the sugar bowls.

  “A few weeks later she decided to try it once more. She carefully filled the silver sugar bowl and put it out on the table after her husband had gone to bed. Then up in the bedroom she put a little doorstop in front of the door. If her husband should open the door during the night, this little doorstop would be moved out of position. In the morning the doorstop was still in place, but when she got downstairs there was the china sugar bowl on the table.

  “Well, the only explanation she could find was that her husband must have changed it and then carefully replaced the doorstop. Not long after that her husband had to go out of town for a week. She thought that, at least while he was gone, she could use her own dishes, so the first night she put out the silver sugar bowl. But in the morning when she got up the china sugar bowl was there on the table.

  “By this time she was beginning to get very worked up. She didn’t believe in ghosts, and she was sure that somehow someone was breaking into the house, though why anyone should do so just for the sake of changing the sugar bowls she couldn’t understand. The next night she locked all the doors and windows very carefully and put out the silver sugar bowl once more. In the morning, nothing seemed disturbed. Everything was still carefully locked up—but the sugar bowls had been changed again.

  “She decided she must have walked in her sleep and changed the bowls herself. Just to prove it, she determined to stay up all night and watch. So at the usual time of going to bed she filled the bowl, put it out, and then went into another room where she could watch the table through the door. She somehow managed to keep awake all night, and kept her eyes on that sugar bowl as steadily as she could.

  “At last morning came, and there was the silver sugar bowl still on the table. She decided that she’d been pretty silly about the whole thing. Here she’d been making a big mystery about it, when all the time she had been walking in her sleep and changing it herself. Then she boiled some water and made herself some tea, and reached out to get a spoonful of sugar. And when she did, she found that the sugar bowl was empty!”

  This ending was so unexpected that everyone had to laugh. Suddenly the laughter died in mid-air at the sound of a slight scuffle from the next room. Everyone was immediately alert, and they stared at the doorway. The boys especially were all tensed for action, ready to spring at whatever was threatening.

  Just as the tension became almost unbearable, a small animal crept around the corner of the doorway. It stopped as it came into full view, then crouched down and arched its back, and gave out a gentle meow. It was a jet-black cat.

  Everyone laughed, and someone scooped up the cat and put it on Margaret’s lap, where it settled down and began to wash its face.

  “Talk about your ghost stories!” Nelson exclaimed.

  “Poor starving thing,” Jane sympathized.

  “What do you mean poor?” asked Jim. “That’s no starving cat. It looks pretty well fed to me. Either it’s been feeding itself, or else it just wandered off from one of the farms around here.”

  The cat certainly didn’t look at all hungry, and in fact refused a little portion of sandwich meat someone offered it. They all felt relieved, although a black cat was certainly in keeping with the spirit of that ghostly atmosphere. Ted alone felt a continuing tension. How had the cat managed to get in here? he wondered. He had supposed the place to be closed up tight. If not, surely the squirrels and other wild animals would have overrun the place by this time.

  “Well, let’s go on with the show,” Cliff suggested. “Anybody else got a story?”

  “I have,” said Nancy, a little hesitantly. “And it’s a true story, too—I think.”

  “Sure, they all are. Well, go ahead; try to scare us.”

  “Oh, I don’t think it’s the kind of story that would scare anybody, although it’s pretty puzzling, at least to me. Let me ask you first, what’s the largest thing that any of you has ever lost?”

  “I lost a dollar once,” Jim spoke up, “and it looked pretty big to me at the time.”

  “You mean something really big?” asked Nelson. “I lost my bicycle once—but I think it was stolen.”

  “And I forgot where I parked my car one time, and had to hunt for it for a while,” Jim added.

  “I lost my aunt’s fur coat I borrowed for a dance,” Jane recollected. “It was a lucky thing for me I found it, too, or I’d be paying for it yet.”

  “Is that all?” asked Nancy. “Hasn’t anybody lost anything bigger than that?”

  “I lost a trailer I was pulling once,” Cliff put in, “but of course I didn’t really lose it. I felt it give when it came off. Good thing I wasn’t on a grade at the time.”

  “Let Nancy tell her story,” Margaret suggested. “Let’s see if she has lost something bigger than a trailer.”

  “Yes, I think I did,” Nancy related. “The truth is, I think I’ve lost a whole town!”

  “A whole town!” Ted exclaimed. “How could anybody lose a whole town?”

  “That’s just it. I really can’t explain it. Look, has anybody heard of Freeport?”

  “I know several Freeports,” Jim maintained. “There’s one in Illino
is—”

  “I know,” said Nancy quickly, “but I want a Freeport in this state. Has anybody ever heard of it?”

  They all shook their heads. “How do you know there is one?” asked Ted.

  “Because my grandmother used to be mayor of it. I have some old letters to prove it. When I came to Forestdale for a visit, I hoped I’d be able to visit my grandmother’s old town, but now I find that nobody’s even heard of it.”

  Just then there was an unmistakable noise over their heads. Everyone grew quickly silent and alert.

  “Quiet,” Jim cautioned in a whisper. “There’s somebody upstairs.”

  CHAPTER 9

  A TOWN THAT DISAPPEARED

  Except for the main room in which they found themselves, and a quick look into the adjoining room from which the cat had come, they had not bothered to explore the mill before settling down to their lunch and storytelling. Now they almost wished they had. Everything was silent once more upstairs, but there could be no doubt they had heard some sort of disturbance, and one that apparently could have been caused only by a human being.

  The stairway, they found, was in the next room, and taking the lantern, the boys gathered in a group around the foot.

  “Someone’s up there, all right,” Jim asserted. “Want to go up and rout him out?”

  “Why don’t we let well enough alone?” suggested Ted. “Whoever it is has probably got as much right here as we have.”

  “No, I don’t agree with that, Ted, because we’re here openly, and he’s sneaking around about it.”

  “Then let’s go!” suggested Cliff.

  “He may have a gun,” Ted cautioned them. He didn’t care to appear chicken, and was in fact as eager for the adventure as any of the others, but he felt it better to point out all the possible consequences before plunging in.

  “I think we can handle that part of it,” said Nelson with confidence. “Anyway, we’ve got to find out, or afterward we’ll all die of curiosity.”

  “Sure,” added Jim, “and besides, we don’t want him sneaking up on us.”

  “Keep the girls back, anyway,” Cliff reminded them. As a matter of fact, none of the girls showed any great desire to be included. They had followed the boys as far as the doorway but had not come into the room.

  “I don’t think you boys ought to go up,” said Mrs. Smith, but feeling that she had less authority over the boys than she did the girls, she added, “but if you’re going, we’ll wait by the fire. Come on, girls.”

  The girls followed her back to the fireside, leaving the boys to their own devices.

  “I’m all for this,” Nelson assured the others, “but at the same time let’s not do anything silly. I want to know what’s going on, but if it turns out he does have a gun, let’s not try to rush him—unless we get a good chance.”

  “Let’s stop talking and go!” said Jim impatiently.

  He led the way, the others following close behind. They had tried to be quiet, but realized almost at once that no matter how quiet they tried to be, the person upstairs could hear them coming. Recognizing this, they became less careful, although they still strained their ears for any repetition of the sound they had heard before.

  The long stairway took a turn halfway up, and just as Jim, who was in the lead, reached this landing they did hear another noise.

  “Come on!” cried Jim, losing all caution. “He’s opening a window.”

  He rushed ahead, the others at his heels. There was a series of rooms upstairs, so that they were confused for a moment, not being sure of the right one.

  “Over there!” Jim decided, accurately enough the others agreed, and they rushed pell-mell toward the door and flung it open. The room was empty, but the window opposite was open, and they were just in time to catch a thud from the ground below.

  “He must have dropped from the window sill!” exclaimed Nelson. “Let’s go down.”

  The others rushed once more for the stairs, but Ted lingered behind. He felt they were too late to catch whoever it was now, and the more important thing was to try to catch some glimpse that would either help identify him or give some clue about what he was up to.

  Leaning out the window, he did see someone—a man, he supposed—his figure indistinct in the shadows. He may have been stunned for just a moment from his fall, but he was on his feet in a second and streaking off for the nearby woods. Then, as Ted watched, the other boys arrived outside, waving the lantern about.

  “He ran that way!” Ted called from the window, and with a shout of glee they took up the pursuit. Although he almost wished he was with them, Ted felt that the chase was useless. The man had had a sufficient head start to lose himself completely in the thick underbrush. The boys were soon lost to view, except that every once in a while the lantern flashed into sight momentarily. They seemed to be getting farther and farther afield, veering away from where Ted had seen the man disappear. He didn’t think they had much prospect for success.

  The room was now in darkness, except for the illumination from the moon. It was light enough by the window, but it took a while for Ted’s eyes to adjust to the blackness before he could see anything else at all. The room was completely empty, which had been his first impression as they rushed in. He wasn’t sure of its original purpose. It might have been simply a storeroom, particularly if the mill had ever been used for working purposes. But it seemed to Ted that the mill had been designed merely as a picturesque sort of residence, and that this was probably a bedroom.

  Anyway, it was a south room. The full moon hung almost in front of the window and cast a faint yellow glow across the field. A weird effect at night, it must have been a beautiful view by day, Ted thought, with the barns and fields and distant hills. He decided to close the window, in order to keep out the birds and squirrels. The one bird and cat which they had found inside, he decided, must have gotten in while the intruder had the door open.

  He couldn’t stay any longer, and he groped his way downstairs, where he found the girls huddled about the fire in a somewhat frightened group. They had heard too much not to guess what was going on, and Ted told them as much as he knew.

  “Are you sure there’s no one still up there?” asked Jane tremulously.

  “No,” Ted replied, meaning he wasn’t sure, but the girls took it for reassurance, and seemed to relax and to talk more freely and excitedly.

  Then Ted stepped outside, waiting for the other boys to return from the chase. They hove into sight presently, out of breath but still pleased with the excitement of the hunt.

  “No sign of him?” Ted questioned.

  “No, not even a glimpse,” Nelson responded. “You sure you really saw somebody, Ted?”

  “Oh, I saw somebody, all right, but not well enough to identify him.”

  “It was a man, wasn’t it? I mean, not just some kid.”

  “It looked like a man. Somebody pretty big, anyway.”

  “I wonder who it was?” Cliff speculated.

  “Oh, just some tramp who decided to come in and spend the night,” Jim decided. “Probably wanted to get out of the rain.”

  “What rain?” Nelson demanded. “It doesn’t look like rain to me.”

  “Well, how did he know whether it might rain by morning? He probably didn’t read the weather report.”

  “I guess it must have been a tramp, all right,” Cliff agreed. “We’re not far from the railroad tracks here, and the way he was headed he must have been trying to get back to the tracks, as though he knew his way around there. I wonder why tramps always hang around railroads, anyway?”

  “That’s about the only way they can get free transportation,” Ted pointed out. “Who’d give a tramp a ride on a highway? And even if he walks, he might be arrested for vagrancy.”

  “Well, the way he lit out of here, I don’t think he was up to much good. Why’d he take fri
ght and run that way? He might have broken his leg, dropping from that window.”

  “How’d he know he wouldn’t be arrested for trespassing? He couldn’t be sure we weren’t the owners.”

  “Well, just the same I wish we’d caught him. It would have been more fun—and the girls would have thought we were heroes.”

  “Maybe dead heroes,” said Nelson gloomily.

  They re-entered the mill, and for a few minutes there was some excited talk about the intruder. When things had quieted down a little, Nelson suggested:

  “Why don’t we look the place over? We haven’t been in all the rooms.”

  There were some ayes and nays, but Mrs. Smith urged them not to.

  “I don’t think there’s anyone else here, but even if there is, there’s no sense looking for trouble. Anyway, I think my husband’s back by now, and there’s no use letting something like this spoil our fun.”

  With this the others reluctantly agreed. They began the task of gathering up the remains of their lunch and leaving the place as neat as they had found it. Upon leaving the mill, they could tell by the light of a lantern on the road that Mr. Smith had returned, and they speedily climbed up on the wagon once more. They attempted to restore their old gaiety, but they were more tired now, and their thoughts kept returning to the incident of the Dutch Mill.

  “Just to think,” said Jane with a shudder, “that we were enjoying our lunch all the time that man was in there.”

  “And even our medal-winning sprinter couldn’t help us catch him,” Cliff remarked. “I always suspected that stop watch was wrong.”

  “Maybe it was an hour slow,” added Jim, grinning at the scowling Nelson.

  There was more singing, more joking and chatter, but by the time another hour had passed they were all ready to head for home.